


It's My Party

by Melodious329



Series: Rentboy [6]
Category: CW Network RPF, Kane (Band), Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, hurt/comfort bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys need to celebrate a little</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's My Party

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I neither own nor know the real persons after whom these characters are created

Steve is frozen at the words for who knows how long but when he can finally suck in another breath, he’s turning back to the room. He doesn’t know whether he should touch Chris or not right now so he stays where he is to ask, “Chris…? Do you want to talk about it?”

But Chris shakes his head, shaking off Steve’s comfort and shaking off those thoughts it seems as he turns back to Steve with a fake smile. “Nah, you promised me breakfast by the time I’m dressed.”

Steve hesitates, but, in the end, can’t think of anything to say or do and so, makes his way back downstairs. It’s hard to remember that they don’t actually know each other that well, that Christian has no reason to trust him, no reason to spill his life story to Steve even if Steve has gotten him off the streets.

Chris comes downstairs before breakfast is even made, wearing again those dark stiff jeans and Converse shoes. But today Chris is wearing the Sugar n’ Spice tshirt. It’s a start, though the loose tee only makes Chris look smaller.

They eat their breakfast and hop in the car and it’s not til they enter the front door of the studio that Steve remembers how much they embarrassed themselves yesterday. He has to admit that the almost purple blush on Chris’s tan face is kinda cute despite that he can feel an answering heat in his own face.

The guys hoot and holler and ask if they’re gonna get a show today. Steve just ignores them because to say anything will just encourage them. But his plan to take refuge in his office for a minute falls apart when they walk in to see that it looks like a tornado hit it.

Chris just starts laughing, his face scrunching up until the laughter doubles him over.

“You did it,” Steve can’t help accusing the teen even as he’s giggling a little himself.

“Yeah there is a downside to having sex in your office.”

Steve jumps at the unexpected voice though he shouldn’t be surprised as he turns around to see Jensen in the doorway with his hands on Chris’s shoulders now that the kid has finally straightened up. Steve is glaring at Jensen before he even realizes it.

“You’re still here,” Steve grumbles.

“Yep, thought I’d keep your boy here company while you actually get some work done,” Jensen replies smugly, not removing his hands from Chris. But one look at Chris’s face has Steve softening. Chris looks eager to know other people, to have friends, and after they cleared the air yesterday, Steve should really give the kid some credit.

Smiling a little, Steve says, “Ok, but Chris has some paperwork to fill out today. Let me…” Steve then takes pretty much all the papers on the desk and stuffs them in a drawer before picking up the things on the ground.

Finished with what he considers ‘cleaning’, Steve straightens back up and puts the paperwork he printed out yesterday on the desk with a pen. As he gets ready to leave though, he can’t help sliding an arm around Chris’s waist, pulling the kid away from Jensen and kissing his temple before leaving the room.

As he walks away, he can hear Jensen say, “Nice hickey. I didn’t think Steve had it in him…”

For the first hour, Steve can’t help looking towards the open office door every fifth second, but eventually he settles into a rhythm. He does notice when Jensen comes out of the office, pleased that Chris is maybe getting something done.

He’s about to break everybody for lunch when Jensen taps him on the shoulder. Removing his headphones to hear, Jensen whispers, “You should see something, or rather, hear it.”

Confused, Steve puts the headphones down and follows Jensen over to the office door. He can hear an acoustic guitar as they get close, but then he hears something else, something amazing. He can barely bring himself to peek around the corner to see Chris bent over Steve’s guitar, singing an old Eagles song Steve hasn’t heard in forever.

But Chris’s voice…it’s perfect, rich and deep, but it’s the emotion in it, that mournful sound of lost chances and desperation. He never would have guessed an eighteen year old could sing ‘Desperado’ like he means it, like he’s lived it.

“Christ, just come back on Monday,” Jensen interrupts. The words are apparently said loud enough for Chris himself to hear as he stops and looks up at them.

“I-I’m sorry,” Chris stammers, fumbling to put the guitar back on the stand as he gets up. “I didn’t mean…”

Jensen moves first, ruffling the kid’s hair as he praises, “Chris, that was really good…”

Rushing forward himself, Steve wraps one arm around Chris’s shoulders and draws the kid into his side. “Hey, what’s mine is yours and you can play my guitar anytime,” Steve starts placating, ignoring how Jensen raises that one eyebrow at the fact that he’s giving anyone permission to touch his guitars.

“You were amazing,” Steve says looking down into puzzled blue eyes. “Your voice, baby…”

Steve’s unsure what else to say, how to explain himself but as he watches blue eyes turn from repentant and suspicious to happy, proud.

“God, baby, if you want to be a musician, I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem…Oh my God, you should meet, wait…this is not getting you out of going to college,” Steve rambles on, unable to organize his thoughts momentarily.

It’s worth it though as Chris starts laughing, at him, with him, in happiness at the compliments being showered, doesn’t matter to Steve because he just loves the sound of it.

“We should have a party,” Steve says suddenly, lifting his face to look at Jensen for a second before looking back at Chris again. “I’m not getting anything else done today,” Steve admits laughing a little. “But it’s Friday. Barbecue, beer, pool, maybe play a little on the guitars, sing a little,” Steve suggests hitting his hip against Chris’s stomach when he mentions singing.

Chris looks interested and Jensen slaps Steve’s arm that’s wrapped around the kid. “Great idea. Consider it payback for the grief and suffering we’ve been put through. Just come back on Monday and get some work done,” Jensen says melodramatically, a smile still showing around the corners of his mouth. “Normally you’re working too hard, not hardly working.”

Steve huffs at the dig, but can’t suppress his smile for a moment. He’s hoping Chris will sing at the party, hoping Chris’ll sing for him later. “Tell the guys. We gotta go get beer.”

Chris’s smile just gets wider as he’s led out of the room by Steve’s arm. He waves goodbye to Jensen then asks, “Do I get beer?”

Sighing dramatically, “Yes,” Steve answers. “These fuckers would give it to you even if I said no.”

Chris laughs and pumps his fist until Steve pushes him towards the car. They go to the grocery, getting enough food to feed an army, but Steve knows these guys too well. So they buy plenty of food, chicken and steaks and plenty of vegetables to grill for the wives and fruit too. Steve also buys the good stuff, tequila and Jack Daniels and plenty of beer. He tells Chris he’s only getting the beer, but from the smile on the kid’s face, Chris knows that the guys will give him anything he wants. God forbid, Steve ever has kids, these guys would spoil them rotten.

When they get back, they immediately head outside to start the grill. Steve laughs as Chris ditches his shoes within minutes, bare feet poking out from dark jeans. He teaches Chris how to cut the vegetables and chill the beer, teaching Chris the secret of ice and salt too.

As the guys begin to arrive, Steve is actually amazed at how well they have accepted Chris, talking to him, teasing him, messing with his hair and picking him up since he’s so much smaller. And perhaps even more surprisingly, no one, not even Jensen, the prying little bastard, has tried to get him alone to ask about Chris. Steve knows the curiosity is killing him.

Course the next time, Steve turns from the grill he sees Jason handing Chris a shot. And Chris is already holding a beer. He starts to say something but fortunately, realizes quickly how pointless it would be. All of them were drinking at eighteen. If someone hands Chris a cigarette, Jensen, then he’s gonna have to do something.

Chris still helps him though, bringing him more food to stick on the grill. Or he did until the guys also decided to try to fatten Chris up. Now he has to go over to the table himself to get more chicken to put on the grill as Chris sits off to the other side, Darren putting another piece of chicken on the kid’s plate and patting his back.

Steve eats mostly at the grill per tradition. Eventually he gets to sit, though, and he’s surprised when Chris immediately brings him over a beer. Steve can’t resist pulling Chris down on his lap, causing Chris to erupt in what might be alcohol induced giggles.

Laughing himself, Steve maneuvers Chris to sit between his legs. Chris can still hold a coherent conversation so he’s not too worried. It’s hard to be worried, with Chris’s back against his chest, his hand on Chris’s belly. They talk and laugh and Steve feeds the kid a few more bites from his plate.

Then the guitars come out. Steve and Chris end up sitting on the ground then, playing old country songs, Garth Brooks, the Allman Brothers, Johnny Lee, and more classics from the Eagles. When they play together it’s like the party disappears, there’s only the guitar in Steve’s hands, the sound of Chris’s voice, a perfect bubble.

Until Jason and Jensen come up behind Chris laughing. Jensen grabs Steve’s guitar from the kid’s hands while Jason grabs Chris, hauling him up over a shoulder, before jumping into the pool, Chris shrieking and Jason yelling, “Cannonball!”

But that seems to be the cue for the party to start breaking up. Chris and Jason wrestle in the water for a few, but it’s getting late and they’re all getting just a little too old to crash wherever they fall. Steve hands a still grinning Chris a giant pool towel and then ushers their guests out.

When he comes back out, Steve’s eyes first fall on the mess that is now his backyard patio. He remembers the days when he used to have to clean these things up himself. Then he turns to see Chris wrapped up in the huge white towel, lying on a padded lawn chair, half on his side and half on his back.

Everything feels…calm, significant, perfect. Sitting on the edge of Chris’s chair, Steve can’t help running his fingers over Chris’s exposed feet, the kid covered from chin to ankles. But once he touches Chris’s cool skin, his hands seem to drift upwards of their own accord, cataloguing the differences.

Gently, he parts the towel, exposing Chris’s calves, straw-colored hair covering lean muscles. Then bony knees that Steve runs his hands over and around, stroking the sensitive underside. Running his hands further up, the towel parts on powerful thighs, only dusted with fine light hairs, the skin softer, paler.

Steve runs his hands up the kid’s inner thighs. Though Chris’s legs are pressed together, there’s a natural gap between his thighs where Steve’s hand fits easily, stroking that softness, that vulnerable skin.

Glancing up at Chris’s face, Steve doesn’t mean to tease, but Chris seems as lost in this haze of sensual pleasure as Steve is, plump lips parted and wet from Chris’s tongue, eyes dark and fixed, waiting, waiting for Steve to continue his slow exploration.

Parting the towel more, Steve runs his hands back up the outside of Chris’s thighs, exposing Chris’s hard cock to his gaze, thick and purple with need, straining from the dark thatch of short curls, Chris’s tight hairless balls underneath. Steve runs his hands over the curve of Chris’s rounded backside and then back down over Chris’s smooth belly, his tiny hips that fit so easily in the palm of Steve’s hands. He can’t help fitting his hands there now, thumb stretching inward to stroke that wiry dark hair.

Then his hands slide back up. Chris’s chest is exposed, the ribs that are too easily seen, the muscles that cover them, small curve of pectorals and small pebbled nipples, dusky dark spots in the tan skin. Steve’s palms run over them, up over Chris’s prominent collarbone, seemingly so fragile, and down Chris’s rounded muscular shoulders, arms, down to long fingers.

Chris is completely exposed now, lying like a virgin sacrifice on an alter. He can see the heaving breaths in the movement of Chris’s chest. Slowly Steve moves his hands up to Chris’s neck, Chris’s head falling back all too easily to allow him access. His hands feel so big on that vulnerable column as he strokes them up to Chris’s face.

Steve leans down then, has to catch those plump lips with his own. And once he starts, he can’t stop, can’t get enough of the way that Chris’s mouth opens to him easily, greedily taking everything that Steve gives. He’s never wanted someone so much, has never felt so wanted.

He breaks away only long enough to strip off his thin tshirt, to lie down beside Chris, half on top of Chris, pushing his board shorts down just far enough that his own hard cock springs out, seemingly trying to get closer to Chris. Chris’s body welcomes Steve as much as his mouth, thighs parting, hands gripping Steve’s arms, pulling him closer.

Rolling his hips, Steve drags his cock up Chris’s body, the soft skin of Chris’s belly, the hot silkiness of Chris’s own dick. Chris breaks his mouth away to breathe and moan brokenly at the feel, but Steve doesn’t let him loose for long, capturing those alluring lips again.

Steve rolls his hips again, slow and easy, rutting against Chris. He slides an arm underneath Chris’s waist, pulling the kid up into him, Chris undulating underneath him, trying to get more friction, trying to get more of Steve. They keep kissing, lips sliding wetly, trading sounds, only to break away to pant and gasp and dive back in again.

Chris comes first, body trembling then stiffening underneath Steve, mouth tearing away as his head is thrown back. Steve thrusts harder as Chris spasms, his mouth on Chris’s throat, he comes moments later, thrusting against Chris’s now wet skin.

Lazily he mouths up Chris’s throat, his tongue licking up the mist of sweat there, until his hands turn Chris’s face down so their lips can meet again. After a moment, he draws back, his hands still on Chris’s face, stroking Chris’s high cheekbones.

“Fuck, baby,” Steve breathes out.

Chris starts to giggle, the alcohol apparently still in his system, but he tamps down on it quickly before scowling up at Steve. “Why do you call me baby?”

“Because you are a baby,” Steve groans as he uses the towel still underneath them to clean them up a little.

“I am not,” Chris whines as Steve sits up, going to get them another towel.

“You can’t even drink,” Steve retorts.

“That’s stupid anyway,” Chris sulks as he sits up himself, pulling his limbs close in the chill of the night air. “I can do lots of other things at eighteen…”

Steve laughs as he walks back over. This kid’s gonna be the death of him and he’ll go gladly. Steve sits the chair up and then sits back down, drawing the kid against him and covering them with the towels he grabbed.

Chris falls asleep quickly, his argument unfinished, his cheek against Steve’s chest and suddenly Steve has the urge to giggle, euphoric.


End file.
